Secrets
by homesickdelko
Summary: Set at the end of Down To The Wire. Calleigh finally confronts Eric to talk to her about how he's been struggling since the shooting.


Set at the end of Down To The Wire.

They met in the locker room after they got back to the lab from Rossi's office and logged and locked away the tapes in evidence. Rossi had dirt on damn near half the people in the lab: Horatio, Eric, Ryan, Natalia, hell even Tripp. Everyone has something to hide, something that can come back to bite them, but how Rossi had managed to get their secrets, no one knew. Eric hoped no one would go through the tapes, he knew they wouldn't be destroyed since they're evidence in a murder investigation, but the idea of having all his secrets stored away in the evidence locker (or even the off site storage warehouse) for _anyone _in PD to check out scared him. He knew all of his therapy sessions had been recorded, a year's worth of trauma, of his struggle with PTSD. It meant that they'd found out about his memory loss, his nightmares, his flashbacks, his hallucinations..., about him seeing Speedle, about him _talking_ to Speedle. The doctor had said it was normal, his brain making new pathways around the bullet still lodged in the back of his head. He didn't _feel_ normal, and he was terrified of talking about it. He felt _crazy_, for seeing Speedle, for _actually_ talking to Speedle, for thinking that maybe he might still be alive. They'd even found his credit card in the Hummer. What other explanation could there be? Could he have faked his death? No, Eric wished it'd been Speedle but it wasn't, instead it was Cooper and because of him Calleigh ended up getting kidnapped.

It'd been a tough few months, and they both needed a break. 

Calleigh smiled as she walked towards him in the locker room. It was a smile that made Eric's heart skip just a little, and one that he'd gotten from her a lot more recently. Their relationship had shifted so much after he'd gotten shot. Even after Marisol passed, things had changed between them. Losing his sister on top of being sued? Calleigh's heart had gone out to him, she felt for him, she saw his pain and it hurt her to see him hurting and there being nothing that she could do to help him. And losing Marisol _changed _him, he didn't smile as much, he didn't go out after work, he hid his grief under his professionalism but Calleigh could see him hurting and it made her heart _ache_, and suddenly these feelings she'd kept buried deep down inside her, that she'd tried to ignore for _years _had started to bubble up in the wake of her grief for him and she couldn't pretend that they weren't there anymore, couldn't deny that they'd been there this whole time. And then when he got shot, she was so scared of losing him, she _did_ lose him. His heart had stopped, defibrillation wasn't working and a shot of adrenaline was what had brought him back. She couldn't lose him, he was her _best friend._ And now here he is, standing at his locker, struggling but at least _alive_, and here she is walking towards him, smiling at him with that smile as she met him there.

"Hey," she said, "that was a rough case."  
"Yea," he agreed, closing his locker door and turning to her, "you want to grab something to eat?" It was something they hadn't done in a while now. They used to go out after work at least once a week, but now... it'd been months. He _hated_ how much things had changed between them. He missed her, he missed how close they used to be.  
Her eyes glanced away from his for just a moment when she heard the locker room door open and watched a lab tech walk towards the bathroom on the opposite side.  
She looked back to him and lowered her voice, "why don't you come back to my place," she murmured, "I can toss a frozen pizza in the oven." Her hand reached out to settle on his arm and offered a sweet smile that Eric couldn't resist. But granted, Eric had never really been able to say no to her.

He chuckled slightly and gave her an easy smile, "alright then," he said quietly, reaching out to brush her shoulder, "I'll follow you?"  
She nodded with a soft smile, "okay," and dropped her hand to lace her fingers with his and give him a reassuring squeeze before turning and walking out of the locker room ahead of him.

Eric knew why she'd asked him to come to her place- so they could talk, _really talk_, about what's going on with him. She was right when she said that he never talks about it, because he doesn't. He knew that if he was honest it would end up making him lose his job. It already got both him and Calleigh kicked off today's case. First his note that made it seem like _she_ didn't know how to process a crime scene, the note that _Calleigh_ ended up taking the fall for, and then the recording from his therapy session. How was he supposed to talk about what was really going on with him when even therapy wasn't a safe place? How was he supposed to heal if he couldn't talk about how he was struggling?  
He knew he could trust Calleigh, and he trusted her with everything, he just... didn't want her to think any less of him, didn't want her to think he couldn't do his job. He was still embarrassed about fucking up the phenolphthalein test when he mixed up the water and hydrogen peroxide on his first case back. It was an easy mistake, especially since he'd been seeing double, it'd be easy to mix up H2O and H2O2. But it was a rookie mistake, one that could have let a killer go free. Eric was worried that if he told her about the transitory hallucinations, the extent of his amnesia, his nightmares _and_ his flashbacks and how they were impacting his work, she'd lose her confidence in him as a CSI. He didn't think she'd judge or think less of him as a _person_, he knew she'd be there for him, but he didn't want her to be unconsciously looking over him and double checking every small thing he did at work. After their first talk in the locker room today, he knew she was already questioning him, and it didn't exactly make him confident in opening up about what was going on.

_"If one memory lapse let a killer go free..."  
"I'd have turned in my badge a long time ago, you know that. I'm retraining my brain, Calleigh, but I know how to do my job."  
"What about the cheat sheet?"  
"Why does everyone keep calling it that? Work isn't a test you take, it's something you get right every time. So what if I take a few notes? Would it make you feel better to know that I've never consulted them, not once?"_

He'd threatened to go to Stetler and tell him the truth, but she didn't want this to go any further than it needed to. She knew Eric was struggling, and she didn't want IAB looking in on him. When she'd first found the cheat sheet she didn't bring it up, she didn't really have the time since they'd been so busy. So much had gone on in such a short period of time. It was all hands on deck for the Newberry case but they were a man down since Horatio had been extradited to Brazil _and_ Cooper decided to make his stupid website that ended up getting her kidnapped. When he took her home that night it wasn't about him or his cheat sheet, it was about her and him being there for her. He'd tucked himself beside her in bed but kept his distance until a nightmare had woken her. He'd wrapped his arms around her protectively and she'd snuggled against him. She'd felt safe finally, and she'd been too tired to try to process what that meant so she'd let the rise and fall of his chest and the feel of his fingertips tracing soothingly through her hair lul her to sleep, and she'd slept like a rock that night. They never spoke of the cheat sheet and Calleigh wished that she'd have said something to him after that night, asked about how he was doing sooner.  
When she'd protested him going to Stetler she'd told him to find another way, that she knew he could. "For us," she'd told him, and he knew it was on him to solve this case. And he did, almost. Until Rossi pulled out that recording. He was glad Calleigh hadn't been there to hear it, and he'd stopped it before Ryan could hear the rest. But Rossi had heard it all.

_"In fact there's this one woman I work with, Calleigh, she's been a big help. Really supportive. She's been a close friend of mine for years and having her in my life means a lot to me. Just being in my life helps me through the bad days.  
There are days where I don't want to get out of bed, where everything just feels like too much for me. Life just feels like too much sometimes but having her there really helps me get through it and keep going."_

_GOD_ everything had gotten so fucking complicated since he got shot. He just wanted his brain to go back to normal, he wanted to feel normal again. But that wasn't going to just happen overnight and Eric needed to work through this. Therapy _was_ helping and the medication is, but it wasn't enough. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to _her, _he _needed_ her to be there for him, but he'd been terrified of reaching out. Terrified she'd think he was crazy. When they were at Rossi's office collecting all the tapes he'd brought up "earlier about Stetler," and Calleigh had told him that it was their secret, that they'd keep it between the two of them. Despite his hesitation, that made him want to confide in her and tell her everything that was going on, about Speedle, about his flashbacks, about everything. And that's why he was here tonight wasn't it? She invited him over so they could talk, _really talk_, about him and what was going on with him.

He stood in her kitchen a few feet from her, eyeing her over his glass of wine as he took a sip and watched her pop the pizza out of her oven. She turned to face him, picking up her glass and taking a sip. They'd both managed to down their first glass in under the fifteen minutes it took for the pizza to bake. It'd been a hard day. A hard few months, really.  
"We should probably let it cool down," she said matter-of-factly. "Come on," she circled her hand around his wrist and tugged lightly for him to follow her. She let his hand drop and grabbed the bottle of wine and walked the few feet to her living room to sit on her couch. They sat down beside one another, her legs crossed as she faced him, her back against the arm of the couch. She watched him take another sip. He was nervous, hesitant, she could tell. Eric used to be so open with her about things but now... now he was distant, and it hurt her to see him hurting. She _hated _that he didn't feel like he could talk to her about it. Their relationship had shifted and she hadn't really realized just how much until now, how far apart they'd drifted because of these _feelings_ for one another that were growing. They used to talk about _everything, _but recently, the few times she did question him, giving him the opportunity to open up he'd insist he was fine. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, and Calleigh didn't want to push him, but maybe she needed to. He'd been so closed off recently and it surprised her that Eric was the one tho break the silence.  
"So," he said, turning to face her, "I take it you want me to talk to you about what's been going on?"  
"You know I don't like to pry," she told him softly, "but I'm worried about you."  
He sighed softly and nodded, then looked to the floor in thought. Trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Trying to find a way to make himself start talking. He _wanted_ to let her in, he _wanted_ to talk to her, but he was scared, scared of what she'd think, scared because he could barely process what was going on in his _own _head. He took another sip of his wine and met her eyes with his. She could see his hesitation and she knew if he was still _this_ hesitant to tell her, he must be doing significantly worse than he was letting on, and her heart went out for him.  
"Calleigh, if I tell you what's going on I need you to understand, I can still do my job. I'm meticulous about _everything_ at work." He felt the need to reiterate his abilities as a CSI to her, and it was partly because he felt like she doubted him and partly because deep down he doubted himself.  
"I'm not worried about your abilities as a CSI, Eric," she told him firmly, reaching her hand out to rest on his leg, a simple gesture that made him feel more at ease, "I'm worried about _you._"  
He gave a small, wry chuckle before he spoke "I don't want you to think I'm crazy," he took one last sip of his wine and reached to pour a third, "because I feel like I'm going crazy."  
"I won't," she promised him with that smile, "you can tell me."  
He sighed then placed his hand over hers and looked at her. His hands were huge compared to hers, yet gentle, soft. She turned her hand to lace their fingers together and the way her hand fit with his, like pieces of a puzzle, it's been Eric this whole time, hasn't it? He was the one she was meant to be with.

"You remember that case with those two college kids at the beach? The Jeep was on fire and the girl died from carbon monoxide poisoning?"  
She nodded, of course she remembered. That was one of the cases that really made her worry about him. Everyone noticed that he'd been acting strange, even Frank, who wasn't exactly the best at reading people. She thought it had something to do with her and Jake but obviously that wasn't the case, and she felt bad for thinking his weirdness boiled down to something as shallow as her relationship with Jake. It obviously stemmed from something far deeper than jealousy. She _should_ have pushed it, she knew, pushed him to talk about it when it was fresh. But she _hated _prying.  
"Yea, I remember. The boy survived and ended up shooting the creditor at Dade U," she paused and tilted her head in realization, "that was the case we caught Cooper using Speedles credit card."  
"You found it in the Hummer," he said and then hesitated. She gave his hand a light squeeze urging him to continue.  
"At the beach, when we were first on the scene and you saw me staring off... I saw Speedle," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "He was off in the distance. And then a moment later he was gone. But when I went back to the scene alone later that day, I saw him there, again. I _talked_ to him, he pointed me in the direction of that beer bong, it was _outside_ of the crime scene tape, I wouldn't have found it unless he'd showed me," Eric paused to shake his head again, realizing just how crazy he must have sounded. "He solved that case," he said, "and then we found his credit card in the Hummer and I thought maybe he was alive, somehow."

She remembered when she and Eric went back to the crime scene at Dade University after the shooting that killed Keith Reynolds. They were trying to figure out where the shots had been fired when they'd realized they'd come from the water, not behind the bushes. She'd heard him say to himself "that's what Speedle was talking about," and she'd immediately turned to look at him and question him, and he completely blew it off, instead stating that the shooter had to have been on a boat. She didn't bring it up after that, and they both pretended he'd never said it. She should have asked him about it and she felt a pang of guilt for not reaching out, but she hadn't known exactly what to say and he'd made it obvious that he didn't want to talk about it.  
"Did you go to the doctor?" She asked him.  
"Yea, he said I was having transitory hallucinations. My brain making new pathways around the bullet still lodged in there. He gave me some medication and it helped with that and a little with memory loss but it didn't help with the flashbacks or nightmares."  
"How frequent are the nightmares?"

It wasn't too long after that case that she'd been kidnapped and he'd insisted on taking her home. She'd been the one plagued with nightmares that night, not him. She remembered how safe she'd felt when he'd wrapped his arms around her after she'd jolted awake in cold sweats at 3am. She'd fallen asleep to his heartbeat, to the easy rise and fall of his chest, completely surrounded by him, his body, the heat of his skin, his unique smell. She wondered if maybe, her being there, them being wrapped around one another was the reason why he didn't have one bad enough to jolt him awake.  
He frowned, "they used to be every night. Now every other night, sometimes every night depending on how many shoot outs we get into at work. I wake up and there's this searing pain in my leg and I feel like I can't breathe," he unconsciously reached to scratch the part of his head where the fragment remained, "my head aches and sometimes, if they're really bad, I'll feel paralyzed and I can feel that needle stabbing into my heart and it aches and I'm stuck and I can't move," he took a breath and shook his head, "the meds... nothing really helps. They might knock me out but the dreams are still there and it only makes it harder to wake up from them," when he looked at her she saw the pain in his eyes. The fear. How badly he was hurting. And she scooted closer to him, offering sympathetic comfort that helped him continue, "everytime I wake up I feel like, for just a moment, that I'm not alive. And it's terrifying."

Terrifying now, at least. Eric decidedly left out the few times he welcomed death right after the shooting. It brought him a few minutes of peace at first, where his body no longer had to fight, where the searing pain he'd felt in his leg and head were silenced. He'd felt numb, at peace. But now, now it only terrifies him. A large part because reliving a needle being stabbed into your heart to revive you is fucking terrifying, but dying also meant losing the people he cared about and the things he held close to him.  
Losing Marisol was _so hard_ on his family, he knew losing him would be too much for them to handle, and family meant _everything_ to Eric, he _couldn't_ lose them. And, despite the trauma his job brought him, he loved being a CSI. He loved his work, he loved solving crimes and helping others. He loved his coworkers. He loved _Calleigh_. He couldn't lose them. He couldn't lose _her. _They'd always been close friends and cared for one another deeply but there was something more there, something that grew over time that they'd both kept buried deep inside. Something they'd both tried to silence over the years for the sake of their friendship and their job. But then he got shot, and she was there when he woke up, she was the first thing he saw. When he was out, he heard her voice, heard her talking to him, praying for him. Her voice had been the only one he'd remembered, not Horatio nor Ryan or even his mom, but hers. He never told her that. And after he got out of the hospital and came back to work he'd become distant, quiet. She knew he was struggling, but she didn't know how to be there for him. She felt his pain, felt her own heart hurting for him. Her feelings for him had shifted and she couldn't stop them from further manifesting and it scared her, because it was _Eric._ She'd just almost lost him, she couldn't let a failed romance break them. She knew that was a large part of why she'd started things back up with Jake- it was easier, familiar. It scared her, her feelings for Eric, and she could tell just how deep his feelings for her were, and it scared her how easily he was able to sneak past her tightly guarded walls that she kept up, how easily he'd been able to wiggle his way into her heart. With Jake, she could take it or leave it, but it _had_ stung that he didn't fight for her. Their relationship wasn't strong and he didn't prioritize her or them. She knew from when they'd dated previously that Jake wasn't one to take relationships super seriously, so she didn't allow herself to get crazy attached.

After everything that had happened with Stetler and her and Jake having to "take a step back," Calleigh didn't want the same thing to happen with her and Eric. But... she knew Eric was different. He himself had said that, had it been him instead of Jake, he'd have transferred to the night shift. And he'd meant it, completely.

She _needed_ someone like that, someone that would do whatever it took to make them work, someone that put their relationship above everything. But still. Eric was someone that she held close to her heart- her _best friend_ and she didn't want anything to mess that up, she couldn't lose him. Hearing about his nightmares, about Speedle, her heart ached for him. She didn't know how to help him, she wished she did but she knew next to nothing about his brain chemistry or how to stop the nightmares so instead she pulled him into a tight hug and held him close to her. It was definitely something Eric needed, it may not stop the nightmares or the flashbacks but having her arms around him brought a kind of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time. His arms wrapped around her tiny figure and they stayed embraced with one another for a few moments, holding each other close, the type of long hug everyone needs after a day like today. She pulled away so she could look at him, her one arm still around him, resting between his lower back and the couch, his hand on her thigh.  
She gave him a sad smile and tilted her head at him, lacing their fingers before she spoke, "what about the flashbacks? When you went to talk to Gabriel Soto and the shooting started..."  
He nodded and squeezed her hand, "yea," he said quietly, not quite meeting her eye.

That was one of the first flashbacks he'd ever had at work. During the time between his release from the hospital and his return to work he'd had them nightly, but as time passed they went from every night to a few times a week to a few times a month. He'd managed to avoid them at work once he'd returned, he wasn't sure how since flashbacks are not something one has much control over, but he'd been grateful that they'd only happen at night when he was trying to fall asleep. When he'd start to fall asleep he'd start to feel like he couldn't move, and that panic caused paralysis and he'd felt like he was getting shot all over again. He felt like he was _dying _all over again. It was terrifying and Eric knew if that got out they'd _never_ let him back out in the field just in case it might trigger a flashback, just in case something like what happened with Gabriel Soto were to happen. At least that flashback wasn't as bad as the other ones. He could still move, he was still aware and conscious, he'd been able to separate his trauma from his job as a cop, but he _did _freeze, though that's not something he wanted to admit to, especially with the case still going on, but he froze for just a few seconds, long enough for Soto to seek cover while Eric stood in the line of fire, his gun raised but him unresponsive. Phantom pain had seared through his skull, and what he'd told Calleigh was completely true, he'd felt like he was being shot all over again. To what extent, Calleigh did not know. She had no idea the severity of his PTSD as Eric had done everything in his power to keep it under wraps, for the sake of his career.

"You asked me if I froze," he said, his eyes meeting hers. She'd said to him that whatever was said between them would stay between them, and right now Eric needed to trust that.

"I did, but only for a split second. When the shooting started, my head," he paused reaching unconsciously again, to scratch at where he got shot, "it burned, my whole head did. I literally felt like I was getting shot all over again," he gave a wry chuckle and shook his head, "but it wasn't like the other flashbacks. The other flashbacks, the ones I usually have, I _cant _move, I _can't_ breathe, I feel like I'm dying all over again and it's fucking terrifying. But that's not what happened with Soto. With Soto it just took me a moment to get my head straight. I know that that's not good, I know as a cop I _can't _have any hesitation, but it wasn't like the other flashbacks. It could have been a lot worse."

Again, Calleigh wasn't sure what to say, she didn't know what the right thing to say was, she didn't know how to help him and she _hated _that. She hated seeing him struggle, she hated not being able to fix it. She just wanted to help him.

"I'm so sorry," she told him, squeezing his hand.

He sighed, and again, unconsciously reached to brush his hand over where he'd been shot and then spoke, "feeling like your dying every other day... it takes a toll."

Eric was being modest, it did so much more than take a toll. It suffocated him, paralyzed him, fucking terrified him. His doctor had recommended some medication but it was labeled as an antipsychotic and after today, where even his therapy sessions weren't a safe place, he knew being on that kind of medication could ruin his career as a CSI if the wrong person, like Rossi, were to get their hands on that information. He'd been tempted to find alternative medicinal support. When Marisol had gotten sick, he did plenty of research on the effects of Marijuana and its medicinal use. He knew it helped people not just with cancer but a variety of illnesses, including PTSD. But that wasn't exactly a solution he'd be able to get away with, especially after he already lucked his way out of being fired after his previous weed man gave him up to avoid being arrested. More than anything, Eric felt completely powerless. He'd almost _died _because of his job, and it was that same job that was preventing him from getting the help he needed.

Calleigh saw his pain, saw just how deeply it hurt him, and it hurt her, hurt that she couldn't help him.

"Is there anything that can help with the flashbacks?"

"They wanted to put me on an antipsychotic medication but I refused. The side effects aren't worth it and if it got out that I was on an antipsychotic, well, I don't have to tell you what that would mean at PD."

"Eric if it's something that you need then it's something that you need."

"Yea," he said quietly, "but the side effects are brutal. Nausea, headaches, fever, just to name a few. They've already got me on four different medications, I don't want anymore."

She nodded sympathetically and squeezed his hand then moved it to cup his cheek, ensuring his eyes met hers, "Eric I'm so sorry," she told him. Eric looked at her, and they watched each other for a solid minute before Calleigh dropped her hand and laced it with his, "I wish there was a way I could help. I don't know how to help. But I'm here for you. Always. I hope you know that."  
"You already do help," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze, "you've helped me a lot since I was shot, more than you realize. Your friendship means a lot to me Calleigh, and I appreciate you being here for me. Being here for me is what helps."

It was silent after he spoke, but their eyes never broke from one another. She watched him, and she could see it, how much she truly meant to him. How much he loved her. It was written all over his face and it's not like it wasn't obvious when Jake was in the picture. She remembered that pained look he wore after Jake randomly kissed her in the lab. She knew then just how much their relationship had shifted. And, despite the length of time that had passed since then, she could see that love he'd felt for her then was just as strong as it was now, if not stronger. And she couldn't pretend that she didn't love him, that this was gonna just disappear. She couldn't keep these feelings bottled inside her anymore. Him almost losing his life acted as a catalyst for their feelings for one another and they couldn't keep dancing around it, couldn't keep pretending they weren't there.  
It was quiet, their eyes watched one another, both of them thinking, about this, about _them_, about how much their relationship had shifted, and how different things were now. She didn't know how to help him, she didn't know how to stop his pain, all she wanted was for him to be okay. It was partly the wine and partly seeing his grief that led to her next move.

Calleigh hesitated for just a moment before she reached her hand behind his neck and pulled him into a sweet kiss. It took Eric a second to realize what was happening, and it made Calleigh incredibly nervous. But then she felt his hand at the back of her skull, pulling her closer, his lips pressing back against hers and these feelings they'd tried to keep buried were suddenly free. The gears had changed all of the sudden. This boundary they'd both had up all these years finally broke and crumbled and the both of them were left here on her couch, his fingers tangled in her hair, both her hands on either side of his face. He deepened the kiss and she let out the tiniest sigh that made goosebumps flair over his skin. She held him close to her, her hand now running through the little hair he had, over the scar that hid beneath his buzz cut. She wished she could heal it, she wished she could make everything better. But she couldn't and it sucked and it only made her kiss him harder. His hands were knotted in her hair, and the passion he kissed her with was _breathtaking, _and she knew that after finallykissing him, finally feeling his lips on hers, those lips that had driven her crazy for _years, _she knew she'd never be able to let him go. But the kiss broke, suddenly, when their lungs started to burn, both of them in need of oxygen. They looked at one another, their arms still tangled around each other, their lips kiss swollen, as the reality of the situation set in.  
Calleigh wanted to offer a quiet apology, but before she was able to do so, he was kissing her again. Slowly. Sweetly. His hand cradling the back of her skull as he held her close. God he loved her, he'd loved her for such a long time. And now he was kissing her, she was kissing _him_, and suddenly nothing else seemed to really matter. Her lips moved with his and Calleigh held him close to her, her arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue teased against her lips. She opened for him and he deepened the kiss again, and she was so close to him that she was damn near in his lap. That probably would make the angle more comfortable, she thought, and as if he could read her mind his hand slid down over the curve of her bottom to her thigh to tug her towards him. She obliged, their lips never breaking as she straddled him, both her thighs on the outside of his. Her hands were laced at the back of his skull, his hands in her hair and the way he kissed her, with so much passion, so much intimacy, his love for her was so obvious and _God_ he was delicious and all these feelings she had for him, the attraction, the intimacy, the _love_ that she felt for him, they all boiled up and broke the surface and the only thing she could manage to do was kiss him harder, pull him closer, and her fingers trailed down to quickly undo the buttons of his shirt and push it to his shoulders for him to get off from there.

He took it off and pushed it blindly to the floor, their lips never breaking, and the way he kissed her, his love for her was _so obvious_. He kissed her slowly, deeply, his hands always on her, in her hair, on her hips, her back, her thighs.

She pushed at the hem of his white tank and her hands pushed beneath the fabric to feel hot skin and the ripples of his abs and the kiss broke when she pushed it over his head and tossed it aside. His lips found her pulse point and sucked wet kisses along her neck, her jaw. She let out a soft sigh of his name and unconsciously ground her hips against his, over his growing hardness still confined in his blue jeans and she felt him grunt at her throat then nip gently at her pulse. His hands found her hips and ground her hard over him and when she moaned his name his hands moved to tangle in her hair, forcing his lips back to hers, kissing her hard and hot and it suddenly hit him that this was _real. _She was here, _on top_ of him, her fingers scratching over his back, his neck, his chest, her hips grinding against his through far too many layers of cloth. If there was a question as to where this was headed, it was answered now. But realistically, they both had known him coming home with her tonight to talk would probably lead to this. But, he had to be sure. The kiss broke and his lips trailed along her jaw, sucking kisses over soft skin while his fingers gripped the bottom of her blouse.

"Calleigh" He murmured to her after nipping lightly at her ear lobe. Hesitation. And of course he was a little hesitant, their friendship meant _everything _to him and he'd _never_ forgive himself if a vulnerable moment ruined them.

But as far as Calleigh was concerned, no words were needed. She nudged his face to kiss him, sucking on that lower lip that had driven her crazy for almost a decade, and then he understood. This was something _she _needed too. _She_ needed him, they needed _each other_. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, then he latched his lips back onto her jaw, his hands immediately finding lace covered breasts and rubbing his thumbs over hardening peaks before pushing it aside and swiftly ducking his head to suck kisses along the swells. She moaned, crying out for him as his mouth sucked at a tight peak while his fingers expertly twisted at the other and somehow he'd managed to electrify every nerve in her body in just a matter of seconds. Her hands held tight at his shoulders as he sucked and she couldn't stop the moans falling from her lips, not while she was grinding against his hardness. She felt him grunt, and then, suddenly, his lips were gone and a moment later they were back on hers, his hands skated to undo her bra and toss it aside, then they were at her waistband, his fingertips teasing beneath the fabric. Her hands were on either side of his face as she kissed him, and Calleigh suddenly thought back to the Greg Tanner case, when she'd tried on Susan's Alstons fake veil, the way he'd looked at her, it was _so_ _obvious _how much he loved her, and the way he kissed her was so breathtaking, so passionate, it brought her back to that moment, to that look in his eye. It was _so obvious _how much he loved her, both then and now.

She tipped her lips away from his, her hands dropping to his shoulders and sliding down to his forearms, and then she was climbing off him, lacing their fingers together, and pulling him to follow her. And he did, pulling her back flush to his chest as they walked towards her bedroom, his arms snaked around her small frame, his lips on her neck, his fingers not so inconspicuously undoing the button and zipper of her slacks. She felt his fingers tease at her waist ban, but her attention was more preoccupied with the light nips and kisses Eric was sucking along her jaw, her neck, and before she'd realized it, he slipped his fingers down beneath her panties, between her thighs, to find liquid fire and circle over her slick, swollen clit, and the way she went limp in his arms and sighed his name almost undid him. They managed to cross the threshold to her bedroom, finally, and Eric pushed her pants, her underwear to the floor. He felt her hands on his belt, and before he could stop her, her hand slipped beneath the waistband and gave him a few quick, hard pulls. He groaned, grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from him and forced them the few feet to her bed. She pushed his pants and boxers off him and laid back as he towered over her, his lips on hers, his fingers in her hair. He was kissing her again, deeply, passionately, and suddenly all he wanted to do was kiss her, never wanting to break away from her, never wanting to lose contact.

He laid down beside her, on his side, his legs sprawled out along hers and he held her close.

She nudged at his leg to tangle with hers, and she was surrounded by him, his bare skin against hers, his hands in her hair, their lips mingling and Calleigh never wanted this to end. She never wanted to leave his arms, never wanted to lose the feel of his body around her, the heat of his skin against her.

She felt one hand leave her hair and move inconspicuously down her body and between her thighs, circling over her clit and when she tore her mouth from his so she could cry out for him, his mouth fell on her pulse point, sucking sweet kisses as his fingers kept up their pace. She was wet and hot and he watched as she unraveled in his arms, his fingers sliding over her faster, harder, he watched as she trembled and cried out for him, his name unashamedly falling from her lips. And _God_ she was beautiful, wasn't she? Lying there naked in his arms, her eyes closed, blond locks tousled around her, her body squirming as she moaned and sighed and cried out for him. She felt her body teetering on the edge, bliss building up inside her ready to burst any second but she wanted to come _with him_, she _needed_ to be with him. She _needed him_.

"Eric," she cried, her hand reached to grip his wrist tightly and stop him, pull him away from her, "I need _you," _she managed to tell him, her breath ragged, her other hand forcing his lips back to hers. He couldn't deny her if she needed him, not now, not tonight. By his plans he'd have plenty of time to explore her body, bring her over the edge over and over again, because he knew that they _both _knew this was the start of something more. His hands were in her hair and he was kissing her again, deeply, intimately, as he maneuvered his body over hers, their lips never breaking. He felt her hands slide down over his back and up to his shoulders and then she felt one hand leave her hair, reaching between their bodies to stroke his hardness over her clit. She broke out of the kiss to moan, her body already _so close_, his lips falling to her throat. He did it again and she felt him grunt, then suck a wet kiss along her racing pulse. Her hands slid down to his hips and she felt him line himself up to her entrance, the head of his cock just barely inside her. His eyes caught hers as he looked down at her in the dim light, green and filled with the same lust he _knew_ filled his, and he rested his forehead against hers as he slowly, _slowly_ began to fill her. He watched as she squeezed her eyes shut and Eric was right there with her. The feel of her slick heat around him, she felt _so_ good, it was almost too much for him. He didn't move at first, instead, both of his hands were back tangled in her hair- he _loved_ her hair- and his lips fell on hers, in a sweet kiss.

Calleigh brought her hands to the back of his skull to hold him close as their lips slid against one another over and over and over again in a kiss that was _so_ intimate..., she couldn't remember the last time anyone has kissed her like this. And as her fingers ran through the little hair he had, it really began to sink in that she wanted this, wanted _him. _Eric couldn't deny that their relationship had shifted, but when it came to her feelings for him, he wasn't all too confident about how deep they were. For him, he'd never loved _anyone_ like he loved her. She meant _everything_ to him, and ever since the shooting it made him think, think about life, about his future. He wanted Calleigh to be apart of it, and he didn't know if that was something she'd even thought of or if it'd be something she'd even want. He still didn't, but now that he was here with her, _inside_ of her, lips mingling, he was feeling a little more hopeful about it.

He started to move his hips slowly against hers, pulling out almost all the way and then thrusting forward, filling her completely. She tore her lips from his and moaned, her head falling back as his lips fell on her neck. He'd already had her _so close_, her body was on the edge, and when he started to speed up his pace she couldn't stop the sighs and moans of his name. He nipped at her pulse, felt her hips move back against his, felt her nails digging into his hips as he thrusted harder, faster. This felt _so _good. _He _felt so good and as his body moved over her, as his shaft moved inside her, his lips on her neck, his hands in her hair, and she was surrounded by _Eric _and the fact that it was him pushed her closer to the edge.

"_God _Eric," she moaned, her nails scraping over his back, his rhythm of quick, deep thrusts was just right and he was hitting against all the right places and he groaned when she squeezed her walls around him, sped up his pace, quick, in and out and Calleigh couldn't stop herself from crying out for him, his name becoming a mantra falling from her lips, over and over again. She could tell he was close, the way his forearms trembled just slightly while holding himself above her, and then his one hand was going between their bodies, down between her thighs and he brushed over her center and she was _so close, _her body was on the edge again, bliss coiling inside her as his fingers rubbed over her, and when he pressed hard against her clit her body tensed, her back arched, and her hips jerked erratically against his as she came _hard_. She felt bliss exploding on every nerve ending as she cried out for him, her body electric as she squirmed beneath him. He kept pushing into her, kept his fingers moving over her and when she spilled over a second time, her muscles gripped tight around him and after one thrust, and then another, ecstasy sparked up his spine and he came inside her with a harsh grunt of her name, his face buried at her neck as his orgasm seared through him in harsh waves.

His body fell limp over hers, the room quiet except for both of their heavy breathing as they worked to catch their breath. Calleigh ran her hands down his back, loving the feel of his skin on hers. As their breathing eased she pulled him into a sweet kiss, her hands at the back of his head, his tangled in her hair, their lips pressing over one another slowly, both of them still recovering from the intensity of their orgasms. He was still nestled inside her warmth as afterglow set in. Time was non existent, nothing else existed outside of the two of them right now. They were together in this little safe place, and the feel of him still buried inside her had her feeling complete, like he'd been the one she'd been missing the whole time, and he _was_, wasn't he. He was who Calleigh needed. Someone that would love her unconditionally, that would do _anything _for them.

Finally the kiss broke and she felt him pull out of her and then lay beside her. He gathered her in his arms, pulled her to spoon against him as they cocooned themselves beneath her comforter. Her head was pillowed on his right arm, his left arm wrapped tight around her and their legs tangled together. He pressed a kiss into her hair and she laced their fingers, her other hand resting on his forearm.

"I wish you'd come to me sooner," she said quietly, shifting in his arms so she could look at him. Their eyes met and she placed her hand on his cheek, "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner," she told him quietly. She knew that she should have, but she didn't want to push him, she didn't want to pry. She _hated _prying and she thought he'd come to her when he was ready, she didn't realize that maybe she was the one that needed to reach out. He used to always be so open with her, they used to tell each other everything.

"I just wanted things to go back to normal, I didn't want to ask for help" his fingers traced down her spine and back up again, then down over her shoulder blade and back up to trace through her hair, "I needed to retain normalcy at work."

"It's a process like you said," she reminded him, "You underwent a severely traumatic event. You're allowed to struggle. You need to heal to regain that normalcy and I'm here for you. Come to me for now on," she said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and pulling back to look at him, "you don't have to go through this alone."

He smiled at her, a tired smile. She could tell he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long while.

"Thank you," he brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, his other arm wrapped loosely around her torso.

"You promise?" she asked with a smile, though her tone was serious.

He chuckled lightly, "yes I promise," he told her and she smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, and murmured "good" as she snuggled against him and rested her head in the crevice between his neck and shoulder, her arm wrapped around him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rested his head on hers, their bodies intertwined as they held one another in the dark of her bedroom. Pizza was forgotten about, but they both knew that dinner wasn't the real reason she'd asked him home tonight, anyways. They'd needed to talk, she'd need to be there for him, and now she was, and she'd made him promise to come to her. Feeling his arms around her, his body against her, the rise and fall of his chest, she never wanted to leave this; she felt complete with him.

He'd fallen asleep quickly, faster than he had in a long time, as if her presence fought off any nightmares, flashbacks, and other triggers that deprived him of sleep on a regular basis. She was protecting _him_ this time, keeping _him_ safe. She fell asleep to the easy rhythm of his heartbeat. She was here for him, and she wouldn't let him go through this alone.


End file.
